


Looking Forward

by Wonko



Category: Holby City
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Long-Distance Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 10:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko/pseuds/Wonko
Summary: According to a book Bernie's bought about managing long-distance relationships, it's important that you always have something to look forward to.





	Looking Forward

The day she was supposed to go to Nairobi, Serena wakes at 5am and can’t get back to sleep. She tosses and turns for a while, thinks about calling Bernie, then remembers the time difference and realises she’ll already be on her way to work. What is there to say, anyway?

When eight o’clock rolls round, she calls the hospital and tells them she’ll be working from home. She was only scheduled to do paperwork anyway, nothing she can’t manage remotely. Her assistant is crisp and professional, which she’s glad of because Serena feels like there’s a scream inside her that’s an inch away from cracking her skin open and streaming out.

She watches the clock tick inexorably onwards, trying not to think of how she she should be in London right now, how she should be rolling her little carry on case through the endlessness of Heathrow, looking for her gate. When ten o’clock arrives she gives in to a compulsion - as pointless and painful as pressing on a bruise - to look up the flight information. BA flight 65 direct to Nairobi is due to leave in ten minutes. She never actually cancelled her ticket - stupid really, since she’s now £1200 down on the deal, but there was a part of her that hadn’t been able to believe that she was actually doing this; staying in her nightmare instead of flying off to her dream.

She has a serious wobble when google tells her that the flight has taken off. She thinks for a moment she might start to cry, then clamps down on that thought as hard as her formidable will can manage. No. Absolutely not. She’d Facetimed with Bernie the night before and her brave face hadn’t cracked; she refuses to let it happen now when she’s all alone in this awful, empty house.

Elinor’s room is still more or less exactly how she left it. There’s some evidence that things have moved - probably Jason trying to clean up as best he could after Lola’s “visit” - but in most respects it’s like time has stood still. The only thing that’s changed is her. She can be in this room without breaking down now. She can remember her daughter with only the edge of the overwhelming pain of her loss tapping at the edge of her mind. She’s even been able to laugh while thinking of her once, the last time she saw Bernie, tangled up in her arms after an evening of reconnecting. Her partner had been telling some silly story about Cameron and a gobstopper he’d pilfered from the pick n mix counter at Woolies when he was five, and Serena had added her own anecdote about Elinor desperately trying to blow bubbles with a lump of Hubba Bubba at about the same age and not being able to get her tongue to work the way she wanted it.

“She was so angry,” she’d wheezed, laughing much more than the silly story was worth. “After half an hour of trying she declared that bubble gum was stupid and never chewed a bit of the stuff ever again.”

Bernie had held her a little tighter and smiled. “Sounds like her,” she’d said, and held on when Serena’s laughter had turned to tears.

With no Bernie to comfort her this time, she goes to her bedroom and digs a blanket out of the bottom of her suitcase. Bernie had slept with it for a week before she gave it to Serena and it still smells like her. Like home. She wraps it round herself and pads back to Elinor’s room, curling up on her daughter’s bed as she begins to flick through an album of pictures on her phone. 

She can track the changes in herself with each swipe of her finger as she travels through France, Sudan, Naples, Cairo, Nepal… Her hair growing longer and greyer as she gradually lost interest in dyeing it. Her body getting thinner, her collarbones more pronounced, before slowly returning to normal. Her face little by little losing that haunted look, smiling more, the life returning to her eyes.

The constant through it all is Bernie. Bernie wrapping her arms round her and kissing her temple. Bernie holding her hand in safe countries as they walk through the streets. Standing close to her where it’s not safe to touch, ready to place herself between Serena and harm at a moment’s notice. Loving her, despite her faults, despite the monster she became in the depths of her grief.

They’ve waited so long to be happy. She knows Bernie understands why she’s doing this, that she gets that Serena feels she still owes something to this place where she nearly lost herself; to Hanssen, who tried to help her as she did; and to Jason, who asks for so little and needs so much. She wishes sometimes that Bernie was less reasonable, that she’d say, “no, I’ve waited long enough. It’s time for us now.” Because if Bernie had demanded that firm commitment, there’s no way Serena could have denied her.

But she wouldn’t be the woman Serena loves if she did that.

She must fall asleep at some point because the next thing she knows it’s dark and her phone’s buzzing in her hand. She blinks away sleep, looking blearily at the clock before swiping right to answer the Facetime call. It’s just gone six thirty - nine thirty in Nairobi.

It takes a second for Bernie’s face to resolve, but when it does she smiles. “Hello stranger,” she says, her voice rough with sleep.

“Hello you,” Bernie replies. It’s their little ritual, the way these conversations always begin. They’ve been on different continents for much of the last year and have got this down to a fine art. Serena had been so looking forward to not having to do it anymore. Her eyes suddenly prick with tears and she furiously swipes them away, determined not to give in.

“What’s wrong?” Bernie asks gently.

Serena shakes her head, tight-lipped. “Oh,” she breathes. “It’s stupid. It’s just…” She glances at the time again. “My plane’s landing now.” She tries to smile but her lips tremble too much so she gives up.

Bernie nods sadly. She’s a little pixelated but Serena thinks she probably knows every atom of that beloved face. She thinks she could probably paint her in the dark. “I know,” Bernie says. “I was just thinking how I should be at the airport just now.”

“Oh, stop,” Serena gasps, trying to smile, to make it seem like she’s joking. “Don’t let’s make each other cry.”

Bernie barks out a small laugh and it’s enough to make the tears recede, at least for now. “How’s your day been?” she says. “Drowning in paperwork?”

Serena scoffs. “I played hooky,” she admits. “Drowned in self pity instead.” She sits up a little so Bernie can see where she is, what she has wrapped around her.

“Ah,” her partner says when she takes it in. “I see you’re putting my blanket to good use.”

Serena gathers it up under her face and takes a deep breath. Bernie’s scent fills her lungs and she feels tears threaten again, even as the visceral memory of Bernie’s arms around her calms her down. “I think the smell’s already starting to fade,” she says sadly, wishing there were some way to bottle the way the blanket makes her feel.

“Ah, well…” Bernie says, a little shyly. “I’ll have to replenish it then.”

Serena sits up a little straighter. “What?”

Bernie smiles. “I talked to the Director of Surgery today,” she says. “We’re going to be working flat out for a few months yet, but he reckons I can have a chunk of time off in June.” She grins. “He suggested some lovely places round here to visit, but I reckon I can probably scare up an invite to come and visit a certain vascular surgeon of my acquaintance.” Even through the mediocre connection, her eyes sparkle. “What do you think?”

Serena can hardly contain her joy. “I think you just made me love you more, and I didn’t think that was possible.” She longs to wrap Bernie in her arms, to hold her tight and never let go, but she has to settle for pressing her lips to the phone screen.

Bernie is still grinning. “I got a book,” she says. “About how to manage long-distance relationships. It said you should always have something to look forward to.”

Serena finally gives up on holding back the tears. “You bought a book,” she manages to whimper, a complicated mix of affection and longing and sadness making her voice crack.

Bernie nods firmly. “We’re going to make this work, Serena,” she says, her voice as calm and sure as it is in theatre. “I know it’s hard. But I love you and I will  _ always  _ love you. When it’s difficult, when it seems like it’s all too much, just...try and remember that?”

Serena trails her fingers over the screen of her phone, almost able to trick herself into feeling the soft curls of Bernie’s hair ghosting over her fingertips. “I will, darling,” she says breathily. “I love you too. So,  _ so,  _ much.”

They talk for another hour, about Ric and Hanssen and Jason and Ollie and then about Kenya and Bernie’s colleagues and the email she got that day from Cam and Morven out in the Caribbean. Eventually Bernie has to turn in. She has another day of hard work coming up. “One day less until I see you again,” she reminds Serena, before they each press a kiss to their own wrists - another ritual - and say goodnight.

The house seems very empty again after Bernie hangs up and it takes Serena a few moments to haul herself to her feet and head back to her own room. She looks at the suitcase on the floor, its contents spilling out slightly. She’s been living out of it for weeks, as if by doing so she can trick herself into thinking her stay here is as transient as all the other moves she’s made over the last year.

Sighing, she leans down and begins to pick up her clothes. The wardrobe and drawers are nearly empty and it doesn’t take long to slot everything away into its proper place. The empty suitcase she stows under the bed, out of sight.

Time to start looking forward, she decides. The days between now and June seem interminable, but, she thinks, if she can just get through tomorrow. And tomorrow, and tomorrow. And then, eventually, one of those tomorrows will bring Bernie back to her.

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't even one of the fics on my to-do list but after last Tuesday's ep it was niggling at me. Very much inspired by the seven(!) years my wife and I endured a long-distance relationship before she moved here. Speaking of [my lovely wife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kooili/works?fandom_id=9605), I've left a reference to one of her rather wonderful fics in here. A shiny new penny to the first person to find it!


End file.
